


Just Doctors

by naughtylittlelines



Category: Black Jack (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abuse of the English Language, Accidental Deadnaming, Alcohol, Black Jack is stubborn, Drunk Sex, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Jotaro Honma is playing cupid beyond the grave, Kei is trans, M/M, Mileage may vary, Someone gets hit by a clue by four, Sorry Not Sorry, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Whump, all your favs are problematic, blink and you miss it porn, revenge for the photo album
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtylittlelines/pseuds/naughtylittlelines
Summary: Some time after that deckhand's death, the unlicensed surgeon is waylaid by a passing typhoon in a small port city.  There's a familiar face at the hotel bar, who's trying their best not to be bitter about a previous 'gift' of painful memories, while Black Jack tries to figure out who he really knew.  Either way, neither one is drunk enough to deal with their unsaid feelings. Yet.It's not dubious consent if you're both just a little buzzed, and leaving the heavy decisions to future (sober) self, right?(Fanfiction: trying to fix outdated medical opinions since time immoral.)





	Just Doctors

**Author's Note:**

> Before I begin, some caveats: the gender dysphoria depicted in this story is in no way is meant to be anything other than one possible depiction of it, and your mileage may vary. We all know Kisaragi was a problematic character, but they were just written that way, in a time where this wasn't well understood, and there are already essays discussing this better than I could. I love him as my son, and he can do no wrong... and well, he's trying, ok? He and Black Jack are awkward favs and if there's anyone to take that damn scalpel out of Hazama's ass, it's Kei. Let the two traumatized boys be together. Originally it was Porn with Whump, but the whump (mostly) flattened the porn. 
> 
> There was no beta for this; honestly it's a miracle I'm posting this at all. I wrote it in one sitting, and my dyslexia is getting worse by the minute. Be gentle?

The rumble of sky as the black sedan pulled into the hotel was more than a threat; within a few moments, months’ worth of rain poured down, drenching any chances of anyone leaving the port city any time soon. The black coat he always had slung across his shoulders was uselessly sopping by the time the man made it to the reception doors.

If black clad customer noticed the flash of a grimace on the hotel clerk’s face as he took in the scarred two toned skin or the shock of white hair, the man didn’t acknowledge it. He was used to the stares and whispers, and perhaps even reveled in it, in some small part. Kept them whispering in the background, rather than intruding in his business. 

Still, the clerk was a professional, and after a beat, the reaction was quelled for the practical business. “Ah, you’re not the only JAL passenger stranded for the night. Nothing’s leaving here for at least eight hours. You’re lucky; we have a few voucher rooms left, but still need to be cleaned. In the meantime, if you’d like, you can wait in the bar through those doors to your right. Would you like me to take your luggage, Mr….”

“Black Jack, and no, I’d prefer to keep it with me.”

The bar wasn’t particularly crowded, but warm and quiet, which the unlicensed surgeon preferred. Just a few travellers at the bar proper, and a few customers stashed away in the booths….

The familiar dark black hair and square glasses caught his eye. “Meg- _ Kisaragi _?”

The slighter man’s shot up, startled. Different expressions warred on his face, ranging from familiarity, surprise, and worryingly, abject terror. “Ah, Black Jack! Caught in this mess, too? Shore leave isn’t much when it’s wetter on land than on sea. Care for a seat?”

Wet coat hung on the corner, and a neat whisky ordered, all that was left between the former colleagues was an awkward silence. Observing with a surgeon’s eye, there was no doubting it now; Kisaragi was terrified of something they had no interest in speaking about. Had someone threatened them? Was this connected back to him, somehow? He didn’t think there was a possible reason why, but who knew.

Still, it was Kisaragi who eventually broke the stale air, still staring at the beer half gone. “How’s your daughter? While I’m sad she cut our time short, she was adorable.”

“Pinoko? She’s fine, if a bit of a handful. I’ll have to call her later to explain my flight’s delay.” He fished into his breast pocket for a cigarette; the package was a soggy mess, and he scowled in disgust as he tossed it in the corner.

“Is she staying with her mother, then?” The question confused Black Jack for a moment, before recalling he never did explain Pinoko to his friend.

After briefly explaining how the crazy 18 going on 5 year old came into his life as his unexpected family, a little bit of nervousness from the other doctor subsided.

“I meant to thank you for all that you did for that deckhand, back then. He was a misguided kid, but he never did anything small.”

“You knew how he felt, then?”

Kisaragi sighed, and the sorrow there was palatable. “You met the kid. Did you really think he could hide anything? It was fine when he knew me as I wanted; was kinda like having a kid brother, even if he was a bull in a china shop. But once he found out my past, nothing I could say would make him realize that he was in love with someone I wasn't. Or in some ways… well, never existed.”

Something about the bitterness there was a lead stone in Black Jack’s gut. He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit there’d been times when he wanted to imagine what life would have been like, if Megumi hadn’t developed cancer, and they ended up as something other than an unlicensed surgeon and a ship’s doctor. There was steel in Kisaragi’s voice that made him tread lightly, though.

“I’m not sure I understand, but… why recommend him to me?” The whisky placed in front of him was suddenly like an oasis in a desert minefield.

The laugh from the ship doctor was a bitter, nasty little thing. “Is that what he told you? I wrote that letter only after he got it in his head to see you; everyone knows the famous 'Black Jack' can perform the impossible, and he begged for a referral.. He found your name somewhere in that awful photo album. I kept meaning to burn the damn thing, even more so after he found it as ‘proof’ I was just a lady waiting for a 'nice guy' to overlook her strange appearance. _Hazama_,” for the first time, brown eyes looked up from the table to meet the reddish brown ones watching them, glistening with sadness, anger, or both, “I know you’ve got a reputation of being an utter bastard to uphold, but why the hell did you have to be such an _asshole_?!” Kisaragi’s shoulders shook, but held their gaze.

The taller man sat ram-rod straight, doing his best impression of a deer in headlights. “Y-you’re talking about _that _pho-”

“YES, I’m talking about _that_ damned photo album. Gods, out of anyone, I’d hoped you were the one person who might have understood.” A hand raked through the short haircut, gripping it painfully, to keep the roiling emotions in check. For a moment, all the man could do was suck in air in ragged breaths.

Slowly, Kisaragi regained their composure, breathing evening out. The look shot across the table was utterly miserable. 

Black Jack swallowed not just the whisky, but a bit of his pride as well. “M-_ Kei _, tell me. I swear, on my honor-” 

“_I thought you prided yourself it not having any._” The words lashed out, bitter, cruel. 

In for a yen…”On my pride, then. I didn’t know you felt like this…I didn’t mean….”

Kisaragi’s face softened a bit, and the ship doctor let a sigh escape, long and rattling. The beer was quickly drained, and a nod was shot at the bartender for another. “I am not nearly drunk enough for this conversation, Hazama, but I’ll try. I owe you that.” 

“Do you know why I wanted to be a doctor, even though it wasn’t becoming for a lady to do so?”

“To make a difference?”

Kisaragi snorted. “I mean, that was part of it, and what’d I say whenever the other interns cracked those stupid ‘Mrs. Degree’ jokes. But really, if I think back about it, my reasons to become a doctor were never that noble, not that I really understood it at the time. Tell me, how do people address doctors?”

“Well… as ‘doctor’, I guess…” Black Jack frowned, thinking how this had to do with Kisaragi’s outburst.

“Exactly. ‘Doctor’. Not Miss, or Mrs. You wear the mantle, and everything else disappears. You get to redefine yourself, and no one questions it. In a way, doctors aren’t men or women, they’re something else entirely. And for someone who hated who they were, it was the best thing they could think of to escape. Not going out? Oh, no, I have to study for the medical exams. Putting off trips to the shops with other girls? I needed to save money for school.

“I spent the first 20 years of my life not understanding why I disliked hearing my own name. _ Megumi. _ A nice, lovely, woman’s name. Not understanding why parts of my body felt wrong, as if someone had snuck in and changed parts of me without my knowledge. Never really figured out why, when I wore loose sweaters, or put on pants, some of that uncomfortable feelings subsided. It didn’t happen often enough for me to put two and two together; I still had to uphold the ideals of a proper lady of a Japanese family that wasn’t even around to see it. Such disorders aren’t spoken about, even amongst the JMA, those horrible, regressive fools.”

Black Jack laughed at that. “That, you do not have to tell me twice." Coughing, he tried to process what he was hearing, "These feelings you had, this self hate….”

“Gender Dysphoria,” The English words were strange to both their ears, “as the Americans apparently call it. Being a ship’s doctor does let you be exposed to more than the strict teachings and opinions of the JMA. Even still, I think it never clicked for me that my gender was wrong, since I still wanted to be with men. Not that I liked the idea of being a _girl_friend, or weddings… or marriage in general. The taboos of love between two men were so ingrained, it never occurred to me why.”

A little dawn broke through the scarred doctor’s memories. “When I gave that speech, right before… you looked so relieved, happy even. I always assumed it was because someone was giving you the truth of your condition, not that…”

“...The idea that I wouldn’t have to be a woman anymore would be so wonderful? I already knew what I had, Kuro’o. Everyone assumed I wouldn’t guess, even though I was a doctor, too. Do you know how funny - no, infuriating - it was, that the very thing I was starting to realize I hated about myself was killing me? So, when you were going to operate me, the surgical genius that you were, and you told me I’d stop being a woman, it all clicked, and I was so... happy. For one moment, you’d answered all my prayers… and the next, you ruined it all.”

The lead in Black Jack's stomach grew heavier. “I told you….”

“Up until that point, I was ready to leave it all behind. All that pain, all that torture. For the last year, up until I became sick, you know what made me think maybe I could deal with all that self-loathing? That maybe, just maybe, if I was with _you_, and you loved me, it would be enough love for the both of us. But… you never said anything, and I figured that you just saw me as useless woman,” Kei held up his hand to silence the objection that the other man almost blurted out, "who couldn’t take care of herself. So, I had no regrets. But then you said _it_. You said it and I broke." There was no mistaking the tears, then. "Into a thousand little pieces. So I had to make a choice. Because I knew after that surgery, the only thing I’d have was pity, and I wouldn’t be strong enough to embrace you, only to have you leave.”

Kei drained the rest of his beer, and again motioned for a refill. When he saw the frown on his drinking partner’s face, he shrugged. “As I said, I am nowhere near drunk enough to be dealing with this.”

“No, I’m annoyed you’d think so little of me that I’d… just _abandon_ you…” His voice was thick with bitterness.

“But that’s what happened, wasn’t it? I don’t really blame you for that; I mean, you, like everyone else at the time, believed the textbook definitions and theories that the JMA shoved down our throats. I did, too. That after surgical menopause, I’d slowly lose my womanly attributes, and that I’d become genderless. So I wasn’t really surprised you were gone. You didn’t need to deal with that. I would have probably left, in your shoes.”

It was Black Jack’s turn to drain his glass. The bartender didn’t wait for him to ask; another was brought with Kei’s beer. “You look like you need it.” Was all the gruff man said before once again moving out of earshot.

Scarred hands gripped the cold glass tightly. “Kei.”

“Hm?”

“When did you find out I’d been denied a license?”

“Huh, I think… actually, I found out from the doctor who helped me with reconstructive surgery.”

The one eyebrow Kei could see through the black and white bangs rose in surprise, “I had meant to ask, but didn’t want to be rude…”

"After I recovered, and got my license (I think mostly out of pity, even if I had earned it), I ended up bouncing around, working in clinics here and there, never staying very long because my seniors kept finding out I wasn’t male enough for them. Almost a year of that, I ended up meeting this older doctor in between jobs, and somehow, after asking what I was looking for... it all came out. The feelings of just wanting to tear out my chest. How I’d had all this hope, only to have it be just out of reach. He said my struggle reminded him of someone, and was determined to help, despite the taboos. 'If something only causes you pain, is it not a surgeon's job to remove it?' Funny, he even told me to write you by name, when I was ready, though I'd never mentioned we knew each other.”

“Hm.” Something niggled at the back of Black Jack’s brain, but it wasn’t important. Not as much as this. “Kei, the reason I asked was… well, the reason I wasn’t there was because I didn’t have a choice. They kicked me out for demanding to do the surgery myself, and for telling you it was cancer. 'Such behavior was unbecoming a licensed doctor'. If I'd stayed, they'd have had me arrested.”

The beer glass slipped from Kisaragi’s fingers at that, and only by sheer luck didn’t spill. “For_ that _ ? …oh, _ Kuro’o _...I never….”

The smirk pushed on his most prominent scarline. “Well, that was their excuse. I did have a terrible streak of stepping on toes that were begging for it. That was merely the last straw.” His face softened, and Kei was reminded of the medical student that fed the test bunnies when everyone else went home. It vanished under a furrowed brow. “So, when I gave you that book, all I was doing was reminding you of all that pain from back then.”

“Mhm.” Kei’s fingers circled the top of the beer glass, a slight tone ringing from the glass. 

“I’m sorry.” And he was, really. All the moreso, knowing that only a misguided deck hand probably ever read the note he’d hidden in there. One wishing he had been there, to see Megumi well, and to curse the fact that he’d been silent for as long as he had. Thankful, too, as Kei would be the one reading it, and would probably ruin what little they’d managed to save.

“Are you happy, Kei?”

The slight young man mused for a moment, taking another drink, knowing he was going to regret a _lot_ in the morning. “Overall? Yes. I’m… comfortable in my skin, now. I can look myself in the mirror and be happy with what I see. I’ve found that on ships, as long as you pull your weight, people don’t really care about your past… well, usually. Some are even fine with sharing a bunk, though nothing past the next port of call. But it works, and I can live with that. More than what I could say before this.” Kei looked at his beer.

_Ah, what was one more regret in a sea of misery?_ “What about you, Kuro’o?”

Hazama didn’t meet his gaze, instead swirled the last bit of whisky in his glass and watching the rain drench the world outside. “In a way. I made this bed of mine… so I really can’t complain. Pinoko’s a handful, but she's good company when she behaves. I realize now I’d never give her up. Still, I worry that my reputation will keep her from getting to be her own person… and then there’s the whole, ah, misplaced attachment. I keep trying to squash it, but I’m not very good at it.” 

“You’re a wonderful father.” Something fluttered in Kei’s stomach at how red Kuro’o’s ears got at that. “When I first met her, I was surprised that you hadn’t mentioned her mother in your letters. I heard rumors… there was that actress, and another surgeon...”

“No.” The loneliness that poured through the man’s posture had Kisaragi kicking himself. “No woman should be dragged through the mud of my reputation.”

Kei snorted at that. “Well, then, what about a man?” the slighter man was too far gone to notice the blush that bloomed at _that_ suggestion. “Really, that’s what’s kept you alone all these years? And you say poor Pinoko has issues! _Your reputation_? Shouldn’t you let them have a choice in that matter? Kuro’o...”

“I’d prefer Black Jack, Kei. As for making decisions, I was following your example.”

That snapped Kei’s focus back. “_ What?! _”

“‘After this, the feeling must be over…’”

The very words Megumi, no, Kei had said to K-Black Jack, right before the surgery. That sobered him faster than an ice water bath. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Is it?” 

Kei was nearly convinced that Black Jack was just needling, not thinking at all about what he was implying. “Oooh, you really are as big of an asshole as they say. You can’t possibly-”

By either the devil or divine providence, whatever Kisaragi was going to say was cut off by the appearance of the hotel clerk, keys in hand. “Ah, Mr. Kisaragi, Mr…Jack; your rooms are ready. So sorry for the intrusion. Rooms 601, and Room 603. To apologize for the delay, we’ve waived your tab at the bar here. Please let us know if there’s anything else you need, and enjoy your… er, stay?” The possibly murderous glare of the dangerous gentleman suggested the only thing they needed was the clerk to leave, post haste.

Kei shuffled out of the booth, fidgeting with the key. “That’s not entirely fair; I was waiting longer, and only had beer. How come you get the same treatment?”

“I only had three glasses; you had at least 4. But, if I had to guess, I suspect either out of deference, or more likely he thinks I’m unsavory enough not to argue with.” The coat was still damp, but it was manageable enough to sling back over his shoulders. "He's not entirely wrong."

“Or… he’s taken by your roguish charms, and is hoping to introduce you to his sister!” Kisaragi snorted. 

“That’s not funny, Kei.”

“Yeah, well, neither is your self-depreciation, Mr. Jack.” The elevator was taking far too long for either’s comfort.

“It’s just Black Jack. And, it’s not self-depreciation if it’s true. I’m used to people making assumptions based on how I look.”

“It’s their loss, then.” Their rooms were next to each other, and both men paused as they unlocked their doors, hoping the other would say something that the other wished they say.

But neither could. “Well, uh, good night.” Kei said as much to his dark hotel room as to Black Jack.

The roiling emotions in his stomach dulled by the slight headache, Kei swallowed the bad taste of unsaid words and noted to get a glass of water to stave off the worst of his oncoming hangover. Flicking on the lights, he had his shoes and jacket off before he’d noticed the maids must have left the adjoining door open to the other room, probably in their rush to clean the rooms. 

Somehow, he didn’t jump when he spotted Black Jack in the doorframe, either frozen in place at being seen, or waiting for the other man to notice.

“Kei…” Somehow, there was a lot less space than there should be between two friends; had he stepped too far, or had Black Jack shifted closer?

“Mm?” 

“Did you mean it, what you said? …’what about…’?

This was dangerous. What little they’d clawed back, could be gone in a moment. 

Sober, Kei would have never left himself vulnerable like this. Nothing good would come of this, a sober man would realize. But Kei was just still buzzed enough that he could ignore that for right now.

“... ‘a man?’ Y-yeah." He licked his dry lips. "Yeah, I did.”

The kiss was short, messy, but full of unsaid desire, pent up over almost ten years of hurt. And the distinct aftertaste of whisky.

“You’re drunk, Ku-Black Jack.” But Kei didn’t lean away.

“So are you.”

“You’re going to regret this in the morning.” Kei had enough restraint not to lean into the larger man’s warmth.

“What was that you were saying, earlier? ‘Let them make their own choice-”

Kei cut him off by pulling the loose ends of that old fashioned bolero tie and returning the kiss with a longer one of his own. “Oh, just fuck me, already.”

Neither one was exactly sure which room they’d ended up in, or where half their clothes had ended up. A coupling for the ages it definitely was not; they were drunk and not particularly coordinated, like a couple of randy teenagers. Kei led for much of the activities, guiding his partner to where he should explore with those quick fingers. But Black Jack was nothing if not an eager student, using those skilled hands to elicit different responses from the smaller man above him. Kei was not at unhappy when their positions were suddenly reversed, as the unlicensed surgeon found a new line of inquiry to explore. 

But even the rush of pent up emotions and desires could only last for so long; after messy and frankly sloppy results, both men collapsed into a knot of limbs and bodies, deciding their sober selves could untangle themselves in the morning. 

Kei traced each scar with reverence, noting which ones were newer, and which ones had faded, either due to age or Black Jack’s own skill. If he was surprised that he’d stayed the night, he felt it too rude to mention.

Skilled surgeon’s hands were doing the same to thin scars under Kei’s pectorals. “Your surgery…”

A shiver traveled up the slighter man’s spine as a thumb brushed a too-sensitive nipple. “Hm?”

“Who did you say your surgeon was? He did remarkable work.” The flippance of the question was answered with a slap on the shoulder. Undeterred, Black Jack sat up, straddling Kei with a hand on either side of him, leaning in to trail wet kisses along the neat scars.

It was hard to think with that sort of attention. “Um… Honma, I believe. Jotaro Honma. Why?” 

The larger man froze on top of him, and Kei couldn’t tell what his reaction was, his face hidden by the maddeningly long mop of black and white hair. It took a moment to realize Black Jack was shaking with disbelieving laughter. 

“Black Jack…?”

All he got for an answer was a kiss. He didn’t mind to accept it, for now.

“DOWKTOR! Pinoko has been wowwied sick! You wew suppowsed to be home yesteway!”

Black Jack was grateful for the cup of coffee Kei handed him as much as he was thankful he’d thought to hold the phone six inches from his ear. Hangovers were bad enough without the abuse Pinoko was inflicting to the Japanese language. “I’m sorry, Pinoko. There’s been a terrible storm here, and all the flights and passages are cancelled until further notice. By the time I got situated at the hotel, I ran into an old friend and missed my chance to call.”

“ACCHONBURKE! An owd fwiend? I BET IT WAS A WADY! PUT THEM ON WA PWONE!”

Before he could even try to explain, Kei plucked the phone out of Black Jack’s hand, and answered the little girl in a far too chipper voice for the hangover he was having. “Hello, Pinoko! I’m so sorry, it was my fault. My ship’s docked here in the same town.”

“Dr. Kisawagi! Whew! I thowght the dowktor was chweating on me!” Kei held back a snort.

“Well, Pinoko, how about I keep a close eye on him for you? It’s still raining heavily here, so unfortunately we’re stuck here for a while. I’ll even make sure he finds you a nice souvenir in the meantime, how’s that?” The squeal on the other end made his ears hurt.

“Yay! Thwank you! Make shuwre theywe awe no hwussys thwowing thwemselwes at Black Jack, okay?”

“_Good-Bye_, Pinoko.” Black Jack had stolen back the phone, before slamming it back in the cradle. “Well, I guess we can’t have you prancing about. She did say no ‘hwussies’, and you promised…”

Kei fluttered his eyes, then dropped himself into the larger man’s open lap with a little more force than necessary. Ignoring the rewarding ‘oof!’, he draped himself across, enjoying the warmth of skin to skin contact. “Excuse me, I see no hussies around here, _ I’m _ just a certified bastard.” 

Black Jack dipped his head to nip the spot he’d found last night, enjoying the sound it elicited. “Can I assume that means you aren’t regretting.... This?”

This caused Kei to sit up. “Are you?” He traced the scar that ran along the jawline of the broader man. “I’m still scheduled to ship out as soon as the storm subsides. I won’t return to Japan for at least another three months. I wouldn’t blame you for walking away.”

“So? I’m still the ‘back-alley’ surgeon that will do anything for a price. I’m set to fly back to Japan, then who knows where my next job will take me. But… Kei…”

“We’ll see where it goes, yeah?” Noting the erection poking him in the ass, Kei looped himself around to straddle his partner, savoring the taste of the coffee lingering on their lips. “We’ll have our fun, and go from there. I did promise Pinoko souvenirs, and I don’t think hickeys count.”

“Don’t you dare, Kisaragi, she’ll burn the curry for a whole month if she even thinks she sees one!”


End file.
